The Rush
by Rayc Petite
Summary: She watched with a heavy heart as he got into the black limo. He didn’t even look up at her. Her lip quivered, but she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t want her mom to come in. She didn’t want to have to tell her. RoganAU warning drugs and underage sex
1. The Town's Not Big Enough For Both of Us

**Author's Note: Anyone notice that there are like zero Rogan stories circulating the fanfiction circuit lately? I have, so, I've decided to start a new story. I know, that's a bad idea, but I've been busy lately with school and Rotary stuff. So, here's a new Rogan story.**

**Based on the song, "The Rush" by Dashboard Confessional… The Shade of Poison Trees is their best album yet!**

**:D**

**Story Summary: She watched with a heavy heart as he, his bags, and his father got into the black limo. He didn't even look up at her, not once. Her lip quivered, but she didn't make a sound. She didn't want her mom to come in. She didn't want to have to tell her.**

**Story Info: Logan and Rory have been best friends forever. They live next door to each other and have grown up together. Lorelai and Christopher got married when Lorelai found out she was pregnant with Rory. Rory's last name is Hayden… Both of the families live in Hartford. In this first chapter, Logan and Rory are both fourteen. Yeah, they are the same age… and well, I guess you'll find out about the rest of the story by reading. :)**

**The Rush**

**Chapter 1**

**This Town Ain't Big Enough For the Both of Us**

August 15th 1999

RR

It was times like these when she wished that she kept her drapes drawn. Not because it was too sunny, on the contrary, it was murky out, strange for an August morning. She wished that she hadn't seen the vision in front of her, that's why she wished that the curtain had covered her window, because the site before her broke her heart. She wanted to look away, she wanted to pretend like it didn't bother her, but it was like a train wreck, she couldn't help rubber necking, even if she ended up getting in an accident because of it.

Raindrops trickled down the translucent surface in front of her face. No one looking in would be able to tell that she had tears streaming down her own face. She wiped away at the offending liquid furiously, only to have the tears replace themselves instantaneously. She didn't want to be this girl, the girl who cries because her boyfriend is leaving. It was pathetic; he wasn't even her boyfriend, not technically. Nevertheless, she did love him, and that was even sadder, because he could never reciprocate the feelings. She had learned that over the course of the week. Because he hadn't called or talked to her since that night, the night she gave her virginity to him. She felt like such an idiot. All those things he said to her were obvious lies now that she thought about them. All he wanted to do was loose his damn virginity before he went off to boarding school, which she had to learn about from her Grandmother!

Her stomach turned violently as the images from that night floated back into her mind, the tequila, the confessions, Logan's naked body. She clutched her stomach and let out a quiet sob. She watched with a heavy heart as he, his bags, and his father got into the black limo. He didn't even look up at her, not once. Her lip quivered, but she didn't make a sound. She didn't want her mom to come in. She didn't want to have to tell her about what she had done, what she had given away so flippantly.

She felt a surge of anger radiate through her body as she watched the black car drive away, the gravel crunching behind it. He wasn't the person she thought he was. She thought that despite what she knew he did to other girls, that he would always protect her, that he would always be honest with her. She was a fool to believe that, and she knew that now. She just wished that she could go back in time, then she would tell him no. She would protect herself from the pain and humiliation that she was feeling now. Because right now, she felt lower than she had ever felt before.

Why had she thought that Logan loved her? All year he had been hanging around with pretty, blonde girls with boobs. She was nothing like that. She had pale skin that stretched over her gaunt, 5'4" frame. Her hair was a mousy brown color and it lay stringy over her head. She felt as if she hadn't changed at all physically since she was twelve. She had no curves at all, she was like a pole and she was almost completely flat-chested with her size A cup. What would Logan want with her? He had all these girls at his fingertips and she was nothing. She was the weirdo who still wore ancient sweaters and plain jeans.

That night, she had been more exposed and vulnerable than she had ever been in her entire life. He had essentially used her and then disposed of her. She felt like that condom that still lay under some pieces of tissue in her wastebasket. She shut her drapes after a few minutes and allowed her tears to flow freely down her face. She wasn't going to try and hide it anymore.

The doorknob turned and Rory's stomach lurched forward. She turned around quickly to see who had entered. Her mother entered cautiously and her face fell as she looked at her.

"Rory, honey, why are you crying?" Rory brought her hand up to her face, momentarily forgetting her tears, only to be reminded when her fingers collided with droplets of moisture. She hung her head and willed herself to stop crying, but it was no use. She looked back up at her mom, who looked extremely worried.

"Mom," she quivered in a strangled sob, "I need to tell you something." She sat down on the bed and Rory followed. She told her mother the story, and swore that she had never seen her mom look so small before, she, herself, had never felt so small before now.

Mother like daughter.

LL

He stood in the rain, with his baseball hat on his head, hands in the pockets of his hoodie sweatshirt, as the limo driver loaded his suitcases into the back of the limo. He would have helped, but he was certain that his father would have just stopped him. He sighed loudly in the cold rain. He kept his eyes on the ground, willing himself not to look up at the third story, at the window and glass door leading to the balcony. He feared that her blue eyes would be staring back at him in sadness. He was sure that he would break down if he had to see that.

Or he would throw up.

Either way, it would be messy, and he didn't want the limo driver to have to clean that up, either.

A large hand clamped onto his shoulder, almost in jest, as he stood there waiting to leave for boarding school in Switzerland, a boarding school he never wanted to attend. However, because of recent events, his father had insisted.

"Are you about ready to go, son," asked the owner of the hand. Logan mumbled under his breath and shrugged the hand off his shoulder. He looked up at his dad, momentarily, and Mitchum grimaced. So then, without a word, he opened the door of the limo and got in. Warm air and a roof shielded himself from the rain, but it didn't lighten his mood, either. He didn't want it to lighten his mood; he deserved to feel like this. He had hurt the only person who ever really meant anything to him, and he wanted to pay for it. Moments later, Mitchum slid in next to him and shut the door behind him. The limo driver got in as well and Mitchum put up the black divider. He turned to his son and smiled, slightly. "You'll thank me one day."

Logan looked over and glared at him without a word, before returning his gaze to outside the window. His father sighed and he moved further away from him, to the other side of the limo. Logan gazed out the window and watched the yellow lines pass by rapidly behind the car. This was the worst day of his life, which was perfect because it had been the worst _week_ of his life. Ironic, because it followed the best night of his life, never had he been so happy than after that night, only to have it torn away when his father caught him sneaking back home the next morning. Damn his father for being so perceptive in moments like that, damn him for his reporter genes.

So his father decided to take him away from her, to protect her, to protect himself from any kind of scandal. Because she was an innocent fourteen-year-old girl, but what he didn't understand was why she needed the protecting, he was fourteen, too. Right now, he hated his father and he hated himself for getting caught. However, most of all, he hated himself for indulging in his own fantasies that night, because he had hurt her. That was something he never intended to do.


	2. So Long, Sweet Summer

**Author's Note: I liked the response for the first chapter… so here is the second one… I was thinking about changing Logan so that he was a year older than Rory, but I decided against it… because of something that happens later.  
:D**

**Disclaimer: I forgot to do this last time. I don't own Gilmore Girls, fools.**

**Chapter 2**

**So Long, Sweet Summer**

August 18th 1999

Logan's first day of school

LL

He scratched his head as he looked up at the tall, intimidating building that was the Zugerberg Swiss boarding school. It was much bigger than Chilton, by far. He picked at the skin on the side of his thumb and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated how he was going to go about checking in. His dad had left him after the plane had landed. He just wanted to make sure that he at least got into the country. Where else was he going to in Switzerland, anyway?

The point was that he had no idea what he was supposed to go after he got here. So he just stood there, with his oversized luggage, as the cab that had driven him here drove away. He felt ridiculous and lost. He looked around him an watched the hundreds of teenagers walking around with parents and rolling suitcases, being dropped off for the school year.

He decided to approach one of them—to ask for directions—when some thing, or someone, hit him from behind him, causing him to fall down on his face. He stretched his hand out in front of him, to break his fall. He looked up to see the laughing face of a tall, lanky boy around his age. He had messy, brunette hair and his face was scruffy, unshaven. The boy ignored him and he started calling to someone—or, as it seemed, no one--in the distance. It was as if he hadn't even noticed that he'd run into another person at all.

"Oy, Colin!" The boy cried, in a thick Australian accent. Logan turned over and stood up, shaking the dried leaves that had clung to his new uniform. The Australian boy turned to him for the first time, scowling, "And who might you be?" Logan opened his mouth to respond, buy the boy turned away from him quickly and covered his eyes from the sun. "My God, it's early." Logan glared at him, annoyed by his arrogance, and grabbed his rolling suitcase, preparing to walk away.

As he turned around, he bumped into another boy, causing him to stumble.

"Sorry," he mumbled. The new boy was dressed in his uniform except for the jacket. He had mousy brown hair and was shorter than the first guy. He also looked slightly angry for no apparent reason.

The Australian behind him moaned loudly. "What took you so long?"

The mousy-haired boy shrugged. "I got held up at the airport."

The Australian scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, "I had to stand around with Blondie over here," he said, motioning to Logan as if he wasn't even there. Logan took this as his cue to leave, and started rolling his suitcase away.

He heard the Australian call after him, "Oh, don't leave all huffy like that, Love." Logan shook his head and looked around for someone that could actually help him. So far, he decided that boarding school people were crazy.

He finally found the building that contained his dorm after an hour of looking. People weren't very good at helping him find his way. He walked inside and frowned at the loud sounds echoing around the corridors. People were wound up—because it was the first day of school. Logan ducked through the hordes of people and attempted to find his dorm room, which he would be sharing with two other guys. He found the room he was looking for and paused before he went in. He was nervous, to say the least. At home, he had always been well liked, but those people had known him his entire life. Here, no one knew him, and the prospect of being alone scared him more than anything else, more than being away from home itself. This was why opening the door was so hard for him. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open—he was acting like such a woman about this.

He walked in slowly and groaned at the sight before him. His two roommates were sitting on their respective beds, and they were the two people at this school who had already made a bad impression on him.

The Australian, who was lying on the bottom bed of a bunk set, smiled brightly as Logan shut the door. "Ey, it's Blondie!"

Logan glared at the guy, but he continued to smile stupidly. "Just great," he mumbled. The angry guy got up from a cot on the other side of room, and approached Logan. Logan prepared himself for some type of hazing or harassment, but it never came.

Instead, the angry guy stuck out his hand for him to shake and gave him a half smile, "Hi, my name's Colin McCrea, and that bone-head over there is Finn Rothschild."

Logan raised his eyebrows at the strange change the duo had taken. Before, they had come off as snobby and arrogant. Now, it seemed as if they were trying to be friendly. Logan wondered what kind of strange joke they were playing on him. "Uh, I'm Logan Huntzberger."

The Australian, apparently named Finn, got up off his bottom bunk and swaggered over to Logan, his dopey smile still in tact. He swooped in and gave Logan a hug. He stumbled, surprised by the guy's friendliness. "Welcome to the family," Finn gushed, pretending to cry. Logan patted Finn on the back, trying to comfort the crazy person. He looked over at Colin who shrugged.

"He's drunk," Colin said simply. Logan nodded; finally understand why Finn had been so oblivious before.

Finn finally released Logan and he nodded enthusiastically at Colin's statement. "You can have the top bunk," Finn said, cheerfully, "I wouldn't want me ladies to fall off from the top." Logan nodded, assuming this was a form of affection, or something. Logan set his suitcase down and turned to his new roommates. An eerie silence filled the room until Finn made some creepy sound, resembling a fart. Logan couldn't help but crack a smile, because the sound had been so random for the moment. He started to laugh, which caused Colin to laugh, which caused Finn to spurt out a series of giggles. They kept laughing, even though it wasn't that funny. He assumed that they kept laughing because they were comfortable with each other. It had come so quickly, but it seemed natural. At the end of that week, Logan would learn more about those two boys than he had learned about most of his friends in Hartford throughout his entire life. He would learn that although Colin and Finn were complete opposites—Finn being so animated that he seemed unreal, and Colin being so stiff that it seemed impossible to get him to have fun—they balanced each out. He would also learn that Colin and Finn had a mischievous side, which had gotten them kicked out of numerous boarding schools. It seemed as if all they really needed was a third person to be the "brains" of the operation. Also, at the end of the week, Logan would decide that boarding school wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

RR

August 25th, 1999

Rory's First Day of School

The purring sound filled the room, suddenly, causing Rory to snap her eyes open. Realizing what day it was, she allowed her heavy lids to shut again, ignoring her furry, pink, purring, alarm clock. She groaned and banged on the object making the offending noise. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to get up and go to that last place on Earth that she wanted to go—school. She rolled over and covered her head with her pillow, attempting to make sure that no sounds would penetrate her next attempt at sleep. That didn't last long.

"Rory," her mom called, banging on her door from the other side. Her mom turned the knob, trying to open the door, only to find that it was locked. She banged again on the door. Rory groaned in protest, but her mom didn't hear her. She continued to bang loudly. "Rory, are you awake?"

"Yes," Rory moaned.

The banging stopped, "What?"

Rory sighed, "Yes, I'm up, I'm up!" She snapped.

Lorelai was quiet for a minute, surprised by her daughter's tone, obviously, "Okay, don't be late." Rory flung the covers off her body and continued to lie on her bed, preparing to get out of it. She felt bad at snapping at her mother, knowing that her unusual distain for school had nothing to do with her, but she just really, really did not want to go. She looked over at her clock again and saw that she had been lying there for over ten minutes. She finally sat up and got out of her bed. The floor was cool, but it was a nice relief compared to the fluffy comforter of her full-sized bed. She padded over to her closet and selected her freshly dry cleaned uniform, which she hadn't had to wear for months. She laid it out on her bed and began her other morning rituals: shower, brush teeth, etc. She seemed to do everything in slow motion this morning, like she was trying to miss the bus, which was impossible because her mom was her "bus." This was going to be a long year.

Her mom dropped her off at the student drop-off area of the parking lot. Rory had been quiet the entire drive there, which was unusual for her, especially on a first day of school. She was usually so sick of summer by then that she was glad to get back to school, back to a place that made sense to her, where she excelled. But right now, she wished that she could go back to summer. She wished that she could go back to over three weeks ago. Unfortunately, she knew she couldn't do that. She looked over at her mom, who was looking at her strangely.

"What?" Rory asked, annoyed.

Lorelai sighed, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Rory lied, avoiding eye contact with her mother.

"Okay then, I'll pick you up after school."

"Okay," Rory said, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her. Her mom drove away and Rory took a deep breath, looking up at the school. She didn't know why she felt intimidated; she had gone to this school since the sixth grade. She had gone to school with these kids since preschool. She didn't know why she thought today was going to be any different. She walked through the courtyard, towards the entrance of the school, why did she feel like everyone was watching her?

She walked through the halls, and she couldn't help but wonder if anyone could tell, if anyone knew. She wondered briefly if Logan had told anyone while wanting to boast that he had finally done it, simultaneously besmirching her virtuous reputation as a "Mary." Although the nickname annoyed her, she was sure that she would welcome the taunting of her virtue today.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice when she passed a group of girls. "Hey, Hayden," a harsh voice called to her from behind. She turned around and saw who it belonged to and forced a smile, Paris.

She and Paris had been friends—mostly out of sheer convenience—since practically forever, along with Madeline and Louise. However, today, Rory didn't feel like being around her and her cynicism. That was partly why she hadn't told any of the girls about her night three weeks ago, she didn't need anyone else telling her how stupid she had been. So, she smiled brightly, pretending like nothing was wrong. "Jeez, Hayden," Paris said when they caught up to each other, "you walked right passed us."

Rory smiled, sheepishly, "Oh, yeah, sorry," she feigned a yawn, "I'm just tired." Madeline and Louise nodded; they weren't as prying as Paris was.

"That's strange; you're usually such a morning person, with your coffee and what not."

Rory shrugged, "I forgot this morning."

Paris must have lost interest in the subject, because she turned away from her and began to criticize another student. "Oh goody, it's Bradley," she said, scornfully. Madeline and Louise snickered.

"How is it possible that he got even pastier over the summer?" Louise asked, bitterly.

Madeline shrugged, "Lack of human contact?" she guessed. Rory laughed along with them, not really paying attention to what they were saying. They approached their lockers—all positioned next to each other in a row, they had chosen their permanent lockers in sixth grade—and began opening them, their combinations flooding back to them after three months of not using them. Rory and the other's opened them, simultaneously, it didn't seem weird, because it was just an automatic routine. They all began organizing their lockers with the new school supplies they had acquired, and continued to talk.

"I mean, that boy really needs a girlfriend," Louise said, still talking about the Brad boy.

Paris nodded, "Maybe we should find him one. How about you, Hayden, you seem like the kind of person who would see the inner beauty of a person." Rory narrowed her eyes at her friend's jab, but continued to organize her locker. That is, until _he_ appeared.

Tristan Dugrey, Rory's biggest nuisance at school, came up to her locker and slammed it shut, and then proceeded to lean against it. Rory scowled at his presence. "Oh good, you're here," she sneered.

Tristan smiled in a way that Rory assumed was supposed to be in a seductive manner. "Aw, I'm glad you missed me, Mary," he said, still smiling. Rory turned to the dial of her locker and began to reopen it.

"Go away, Tristan," Paris ordered, reminding Rory why she loved her so much, she was good at putting Tristan in his place. The other person who was good at that was Logan, but he was gone now, so she really needed Paris. The mockery from Tristan had begun only last year, and Rory wasn't really sure why. Logan had said that it was because he had a thing for her, but she just assumed that Logan was joking, he'd say it in a way that hinted it in that direction. Whatever the reason, it used to bother her, but she had gotten used to it by now. All Tristan wanted was a reaction from her, and as long as she didn't give it to him, he would go away faster.

However, Paris' angry tone this morning did not seem to intimidate Tristan, he ignored her and continued to berate Rory. "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?" he practically sang to her, dramatically. Rory rolled her eyes and left it up to Paris to make him slink away.

"Tristan, why don't you pull your head out of your ass and use it for something useful?" Paris sneered again.

Tristan smiled at her. "Don't you think winning the heart of Rory Hayden is a noble and important cause?" He winked as Rory got her locker open and pulled out the books that she would need for the first half of the day, "I mean, with Logan gone, someone has to step up to rob her of her virtue." Rory dropped her books at her feet, whirled around and slapped Tristan in the face with the palm of her hand. The offense made a deafening 'smack' gaining the attention of everyone in the general area. Everyone, including Tristan, stared at her in shock. Only after the stinging sensation started to ebb in her hand did it register in her brain what she had just done. Her face began to heat up from embarrassment. She picked up her book, and walked away, leaving her locker open. She looked down at the ground and hopped that it wasn't a big deal. That no one had really noticed. "Well," Tristan said, smiling after the shock had worn off, "I guess she's not our little Mary anymore."

Oh yeah, it was going to be a long year.

**Author's Note: GAH! I'm sorry this took so long to write. I broke my finger… making it very difficult to write. I've actually been working on this chapter since I posted the last one. It just takes a freakishly long time to type with two fingers taped together… So, give Henry some love and leave me a review, fools. Good or bad, I want to hear your opinions. Sorry for any typos, typing with four fingers is difficult. **


	3. The Sound of Settling

**Author's Note: Telling you guys that my finger broke was a mistake, because that's all you talked about in the reviews—most of you. :D All I ask for his some input! I DON'T have this story completely outlined yet. In fact, I only have the next three chapters—or so—outlined. I need some ideas people. Give them to me, and I will love you. **

**The title of the chapter is a Death Cab for Cutie song… I love them… and that song. **

**Oh, the title of the last chapter was inspired by a Dashboard Confessional song called **_**So Long, So Long**_**, and the first chapter was a song by Sparks.**

**I guess I should site that.**

**I take a lot of chapter titles from lyrics and song titles, just so you know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it, and it's over… wa, wa, wa! **

**Chapter 3**

**The Sound of Settling**

October 25th 1991

Two months later

RR

The condensation of the soda she was holding was making her hands wet. She made a disgusted face and wiped the liquid off onto her jeans. She ran her tongue over her brace-less teeth, still getting used to the sensation of not having two, jagged train tracks running across the inside of her mouth. She rested her hand down on the refreshments table and took a sip of her soda—being one of the only people at the party who wasn't drinking. It was hot and stuffy inside Madeline's crowded house, where it seemed that everyone in their entire school had been invited. It wasn't the wildest party she had ever been to, but her mom definitely wouldn't have approved.

She didn't want to be here, but Madeline and Louise had insisted. They had noticed how down in the dumps she had been acting all school year. They wanted to cheer her up, but it seemed the harder that they tried, the sadder it made her. So here she was, dressed up for a party, and she couldn't seem to tear herself away from the beverage table, or Paris. These past two months flew by so quickly, and Rory had felt like she was dreaming the entire way through it. Why was it that she seemed completely unable to get over that one night, obviously Logan had. She hadn't heard a peep out of him since he left. There was no phone call, letter, postcard, or even a smoke signal. She had convinced herself that she was just the first notch on what was bound to be a pretty cluttered bedpost. She took another drink of her soda, when someone unceremoniously bumped into her, causing her to spill her drink all over herself and the table in front of her. "Sorry," she mumbled to her attacker, even though he bumped into her.

The guy snickered at the mess he made, obviously intoxicated, and that caused Paris to lash out. "Hey," she spat, gaining the guy's attention. He seemed to instantly sober at her tone, "next time you plan on bumping into my friend here, don't be surprised if in the near future you end up missing an important appendage you would normally use for 'bumping' into other girls." He looked at her in horror, and stayed rooted to his spot. Paris smiled mischievously. "That's a nice shirt, your mommy pick it out for you?" The guy walked away quickly, trying to get away from Paris and her madness. Paris snickered bitterly. "That was too easy." She looked over at Rory who was frowning. "What?"

Rory sighed. "You didn't have to do that," she said quietly, she wasn't mad.

Paris nodded. "I know, but someone has to watch out for you, you're not very good at asserting yourself." Rory ignored the not-so-subtle dig and turned away, watching the crowd. Paris frowned and stared with her. "Oh shit, what time is it?" she asked.

Rory shrugged. "I have no idea."

Paris checked her watch, "9:45."

"Why do you care?"

"My mom says I have to stay until 10:30, she thinks I'm not enough of a people person, shocking, huh?"

"I'm floored," Rory said dryly.

She continued to look at the random people who were dancing. Suddenly, Summer—Tristan's girl of the week—and Tristan himself came barging into the center of the dance floor. Although they were making quite a scene, no one seemed to notice but Rory and Paris. "Look, why won't you answer me?" Tristan asked Summer, on the verge of hysterics. His teeth were gritted together, and he looked as if he were about to throw something against the wall.

Summer, however, simply tossed her long, brown hair and smiled at him slyly. "Because you didn't say 'please,'" she joked, pushing his buttons. From the look on Tristan's face, Rory could tell that he was not in the mood.

"Summer."

Summer rolled her eyes and snapped her gum, "Can we do this later, there's a party going on." Rory never had such a strong sensation to slap someone before as she did right now.

"Just tell me what you were doing locked in the bathroom with Austin!" Rory gasped, recognizing that name as one of Tristan's best friends. Summer turned to Tristan and shrugged, pouting her lips. "Nothing."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief, "Nothing?"

Summer smiled mischievously, "Yep."

She started to walk away, but Tristan grabbed her arm, "No!" Summer, no longer enjoying Tristan's attitude turned around and rolled her eyes.

"Well, why don't you tell me what I was doing, since you seem to know everything?"

Tristan stomped his foot. "Hey, you're my girlfriend," he said possessively.

Summer smirked at him. "Ooh now he's a caveman," she mocked, hotly. "What are you doing to do, knock me on the back of my head with a club, and then drag me back to your Porsche?" A few people—who were listening into the conversation—snickered.

Tristan looked around, self-consciously. "Summer, please," he said softly, trying to get her to be quiet. He wanted to avoid a scene.

Summer, however, was having too much fun being the center of attention, "Ooh, good song." She walked—danced, rather—away from Tristan, who looked around in humiliation, before going after her.

Rory and Paris met each other's eyes and exchanged looks. Paris finally rolled her eye, breaking the contact. "I just love Summer, don't you?"

---

She had a headache. Throughout the night, Rory felt like the music just kept getting louder and louder. The people around her continued to get in abbreviated states, so she found herself wandering around by herself after Paris left. She finally found a room in the vast house that wasn't completely raging. She sat down in an elegant looking chair, and rested her head against her hand, trying to stop it from pounding. She opened her eyes abruptly when Tristan and Summer came stomping into the room. "Tristan stop it!" she cried, trying to get away from him.

Tristan grabbed onto her arm, causing her to stop walking. "You're making me chase you around the whole party!" he cried, no longer trying to keep his voice down.

Summer shrugged out of his grasp and turned her back on him. "Just trying to have fun." She rolled her eyes, as if Tristan's reaction was totally unjustified.

"Okay, you won't talk to me; you won't dance with me, why the hell did you even come with me?" His frustration grew with every point that he made.

"Stop yelling!"

Tristan sighed and took a minute to calm down. "Summer, please, can we just go?" he begged quietly.

Summer crossed her arms across her chest. "No."

"_Please._"

Summer turned away from him and sighed in exasperation. "No, I'm sick of fighting with you. I'm sick of hearing twenty times a day 'You're my girlfriend.'"

By now, a group of people had gathered around to observe the public fight. Tristan glanced around nervously. "Okay, could we possibly do this somewhere where a roomful of people aren't _staring_ at us?"

Summer, ignoring Tristan's request, simply smiled. "I think we should break up." Tristan's face fell, which made Summer's smile brighten.

"Okay, I really want to go outside and talk about this."

Summer smirked and quirked her eyebrow at him, seductively. "Then go, bye." She waved daintily at him and walked away, swinging her hips.

Tristan remained, rooted to his spot, and he looked in Rory's direction. She quickly avoided his gaze, pretending to be interested in something to the right of her. For once in her life, she felt bad for Tristan Dugrey. He looked away from her and stalked off, she assumed to go find Summer.

---

It took her twenty minutes to find him again—damn Madeline for having such a huge house. He was sitting in a small room, which only had a black, Steinway piano in it. Tristan was sitting at the piano, and he was slowly playing a sad tune. Rory entered the room, cautiously, not wanted to make him mad—or to make him stop playing. She felt herself being enchanted by the sound reverberating throughout the room. Before she knew it, she was sitting next to Tristan on the piano stool. He looked over at her and raised his left eyebrow in confusion; he stopped playing.

"Oh, sorry," Rory breathed.

Tristan shrugged and continued playing. "No problem."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, a little too harshly.

Rory tensed up for a minute, but his bitter-sweet notes softened her edge. "About you and Summer…"

Tristan shook his head. "I don't want to talk about Summer."

"Oh, okay," Rory said softly. She racked her brain for safe, Summer-free subjects. "I got my braces off." She smiled brightly at him, to show him her brace-free teeth.

Tristan furrowed his brow. "What?"  
"I got them off yesterday," she quipped.

Tristan smiled in spite of himself. "I know, you left school for it."

"Yeah, I had them on for two years." She looked over at Tristan who was staring at her strangely.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to fight his lips that were curling up.

"I'm talking about my braces."

"Why?"

"Because, you said you didn't want to talk about Summer."

Tristan's face instantly fell. "I don't."

Rory smiled, emphasizing with him. "Okay, so I moved on to my teeth, did you want to talk about my hair?"

Tristan shook his head and huffed. "You just loved it, didn't you?"

"Loved what?" she murmured.

"Seeing me get nailed like that, it must have been a great moment." He matched her tone.

"Not really," she confessed, genuinely.

"Please," he said, not buying her sincerity, "you loved it, she loved it, everybody loved it."

She shook her head. "I did not love it."

He looked over at her, into her eyes, and nodded. He seemed to believe her now. "I really liked her, too," he whispered.

"Yeah, I know."

Tristan sighed, releasing all his negative, Summer feelings, and looked over at Rory again. "So, hear from Logan recently."

Rory grimaced and shook her head. "Nope."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't want to." She looked down at her hands, and avoided his gaze. She hadn't really talked to anyone about Logan since she talked to her mother almost two months ago.

Tristan smiled again and tilted Rory's chin up with his hand. "You do look good without your braces."

Rory blushed, and tore away from Tristan's grasp, trying to hide her face. He frowned again, but he only turned back to the piano. He played slowly, letting his fingers trail over the keys, barely touching. Mesmerized by his hands, she found herself lost in thought. Never had she seen Tristan so civilized, so human. Maybe this was what he was like without his friends, without anybody watching. Something about him—and it wasn't the hair—reminded her of Logan. The way his smirk twitched up, the way he reacted when she was trying to cheer him up, even the way he played piano. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was on his cool face, and he turned to look at her, still playing. Rory's face drew closer to Tristan's, like he was pulling her forward. His hands came crashing down on the keys—making a horrible racket of misused cords—and he closed the gap between them. He brushed his lips against hers; they felt like they were barely touching hers—like his fingers on the piano keys.

**Author's Note**: **I've decided—in the spirit of having frequent updates—that I would split up the Rory and Logan POV parts of the chapter and make them two chapters. I want some reviews with IDEAS people! The song that I had in mind for Tristan's song—that he was playing on the piano—is called "Kiss the Rain" by Yiruma. Check it out.**

**:D **


	4. A Typical High

**Author's Note: I'm on my new laptop… and that makes me giddy… so new chapter.**** Just so you guys know**** this chapter in Logan's point of view takes place at the same time as the last chapter with Rory. It will usually like that.**

**Also, when I said that I would split the chapters, I meant that I would SOMETIMES split the chapter. Sometimes I'll combine them. **

**Enjoy.**

**WARNING: DRUGS.**

**I'm adding drugs into this story… mainly because I think that it manifests without parental supervision… it's not promoting drugs, it's just part of the story.**

**I'm going to warn you guys now that this is not a fluffy piece.**

**It's dark.**

**I'm going to add the warning into the summary.**

**Chapter 4**

**It's a Typical High**

Logan

He went to put the chip in his mouth and completely missed, causing him to dissolve into a fit of giggles. He had never felt so… _light_ in his entire life… and chips had never tasted so _good_. He resumed his attempts to eat and succeeded this time. He chewed slowly, allowing the flavor to fill his mouth. God, why had he never tried this before? He had wasted years of his life just living life not… high. The music around him at the ragging party even sounded better… the bass thumped his heart… which was already moving at a rapid pace. Everything seemed to whirl past him, he couldn't believe that it was only a mere hour and a half ago that he was sitting in his dorm with Colin and Finn, taking a hit off an orange colored bong. He had been nervous, really nervous, but Colin and Finn had assured him that the cannabis would relax him, it would calm him down. At first the marijuana made him black out, because he was trying to fight the effects too much, but after he relaxed, he was able to enjoy his high.

He took that moment to survey what was going on around him at the dangerously dark party in front of him. He had been to many parties like this since he first started going to boarding school—being friends with Colin and Finn gave him immediate access—but he had only drank alcohol at them. Now, he was in an entirely different state of mind and he could fully enjoy what was going on around him. He wasn't the only one high there, he could tell that much, most of the people around him were probably more gone that he was by a long shot. Parties like this were nothing like the ones he had been to in Hartford. Hartford parties just had booze and kids from his school… this party had… everything and had three times as many people. It was so crowded in here, it was dark, and there was barely enough room to breathe. People kind of moved in a wave to the Massive Attack music, instead of having individual partners… and people were sweating… a lot. Also, there were fewer clothes, Logan, himself, wasn't wearing a shirt and many people around him were wearing less than that. He liked boarding school.

He looked over to the corner and saw Finn doing shots with a group of other people. Logan shook his head, Finn and his alcohol. He started to walk towards Finn when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. He turned around and became face-to-face with Colin. A wide grin stretched over his face. "Colin, my man, what's happening?"

Colin mimicked his smile, knowingly. He pulled Logan over to the bar and they both ordered some drink with vodka in it, lots of vodka. "Have you seen Juliet?" Colin yelled, leaning in close to Logan's ear so he could hear him.

Logan shook his head. "Nah, should I have?"

Colin laughed, it sounded almost like a gleeful giggle. "Dude, she wants to fuck you."

Logan's heart sped up for a second. He leaned away from Colin and gave him a questioning look. "What?"

There was a distinct twinkle in Colin's eyes. "Steph told me." He turned away from

Logan and took a sip from his drink, and made a face, obviously there was a lot of alcohol in it. Logan remained skeptical. Steph was the female faction of their little group. She, Colin, and Finn had been to numerous boarding schools together since they were old enough. And although Logan loved her like a sister, he knew she was a gossip queen, and was known to stretch the truth… even lie sometimes. "Oh yeah, who'd she hear that from?" He, too, took a sip of his drink and he made a face. All this serious talk was taking away his buzz, although, that could be because he had taken a very small hit in the first place.

Colin shrugged. "Juliet told her herself, man, just look." Colin turned Logan around and gestured two the left. Sure enough, Logan saw Steph and a sophomore girl with straight blonde hair and a mini skirt, looking right at him. The sophomore girl—being Juliet—waved at him seductively and Logan felt himself sweating more than he was a minute ago. Colin slapped his hands on his shoulders and shook him with excitement. "Man, you are getting laid _tonight_! She is totally giving you bedroom eyes!"

Logan shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "You really think so?"

Colin slapped him in the back, stinging his naked flesh. "Think so? Man, I know so. Go for it before I do!" With that, he pushed Logan forward and before he knew what he was doing, he was walking towards the two blonde girls. Steph whispered something in Juliet's ear, obviously excusing herself, and she walked away. Logan was feet away from Juliet, and he was still trying to figure out what to say. How was he supposed to initiate this? He seriously wished that he had drunk more of his drink, just to take some of the edge off things.

However, as he got closer to her, he realized he didn't have to do anything. She closed the gap between them and pressed herself against his body. "Let's get out of her," she whispered breathily into his ear. Logan could feel her heart beating steadily in her chest, a big contrast to his own heart which felt like it was ricocheting everywhere. She grabbed his hand, laced his fingers with hers, and led him out of the crowded room, towards the onyx spiral stairs. He followed her, not knowing quite what else to do.

In a secluded room a floor above the main party, Logan and Juliet were laying down on the full-sized bed, laying down on each other. Their breathing was heavy, but Logan noticed that Juliet's heart beat was still relatively normal. While his remained beating at a rapid pace. Juliet sat up so she was straddling Logan, and he sat up so he was leaning against the headboard. Juliet kissed Logan fully on the mouth, delving her tongue into his mouth. He noticed that she tasted like toothpaste. She sat before him clad only in her denim mini skirt and lacy pink bra. She ran her cold hands from Logan's hair to his bare chest and she smiled against his lips. Logan ran his own hands down her bare back. Juliet leaned her forehead against his, and her heart rate started to pick up slightly. "Am I pretty?" she asked in a breathy tone.

Logan frowned. Why was she asking this question, and why now? Didn't she know she was pretty? She seemed to know it when she dragged him away from the busy party to make out upstairs. But he guessed that she just needed some reassurance. "Yes," he said, returning his lips to her swollen ones.

She broke away from him again and began nibbling on his earlobe, slowly making her way down his neck with open-mouthed kisses. "Am I the prettiest girl you've ever seen?" she mumbled against his throat.

Again, he was confused by her question. Truthfully, the answer was no, by a long shot, but he didn't want to insult her, he didn't want to have to go back down to that party and tell Colin and Finn that he had failed in seducing her. So he lied, "Yes." He pulled her closer to him, trying to eliminate the conversation, and began sucking on the pulse point on her neck, her pulse was rapid.

She pushed her hands against his chest and looked into his brown eyes; her own grey eyes were wide and vulnerable. "Do you love me?" she asked in a voice that was barely over a whisper.

Logan froze. Saying yes was definitely a lie, but he didn't want to hurt Juliet… and her position on his body was making it hard to concentrate. He wasn't thinking straight anymore, even though the drugs had worn off almost a half hour ago. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out, so he nodded his head. "Yes, I love you."

Juliet's smile widened and she attacked his lips in a frenzy. She leaned back, flopping back on the bed, and pulled Logan along with her, so he was lying on top of her. As she continued her ministrations, Logan stopped responding for a minute, knowing this was wrong, that he was deceiving her. Juliet realized that he stopped and broke away from him, looking him in the eye. "Is something wrong?"

There was an edge to her voice, like she was annoyed that he was stopping. He realized then that she didn't love him either, she just wanted someone to say it to her. He didn't feel so bad anymore. So he shook his head, and held her close, pretending she was someone else.

As the night wore on, they did things together, things Logan had never done before, and Logan knew he wouldn't sleep with Juliet again. As he picked up his discarded clothes in the dark and retreated from her sleeping figure, he knew that they pretended to each other that it meant more to both of them, but it was vile, and cheap. She was beautiful, but she didn't mean a thing to him.

**Author's Note: Yeah, so that'****s my update. Logan's life will be darker than Rory's.**** The chapter was influenced by two songs… "Mezzanine" by Massive Attack and "Tiny Vessels" by Death Cab for Cutie… I recommend both of them. My fingers are not bound together anymore, so that means more updates… I hope… REVIEWS, REVIEWS, REVIEWS! I can't say that enough! **


	5. The Only Reason I Keep On Coming Home

**Author's Note: Sorry that it's taking so long to update… I have a slew of excuses… including illness, broken Microsoft Word, EXTREME writer's block, and solitaire. A Bunch of you guys are asking me to hurry up and get to Rory and Logan meeting again… because of that, I basically deleted a chapter, that's right, it doesn't exist anymore. So, this is the second to last chapter of the past…. Then we'll get to their senior year. :D **

**Chapter title is a lyric from an Amos Lee song called, "Sweet Pea." **

**Chapter 5 **

**You're the Only Reason I Keep on Coming Home **

_December 12th, 1999_

_Logan _

_ He grabbed her waist from behind, for support, as he tried to catch his breath from laughing. She removed his hands and staggered over to the counter to lean on while she tried to stop giggling. "Steph," Logan gasped, still shaking. Steph ignored him and stayed where she was. Logan approached her and hugged her from behind, both of their bodies continued to vibrate from trying to calm their laughter. "Colin, make him stop!" _

_Colin, who also was trying to stifle his hysterics, shook his head violently. "I can't, man, have you ever tried to stop Finn before?" _

_ Finn staggered in after them, continuing the outrageous impression he had been deeply reenacting moments before. Logan thought that he was really spot-on with his impersonation, but he thought it might also be because all of them—including Finn—were heavily baked. They had just finished a two-hour session when they all collectively decided that they had "the muchies." Now, they were wandering around a dark kitchen—a kitchen that was closed to students after hours—in the middle of the night, looking for junk food at a school that was known for its good nutrition. _

_ "Looooooogggggggggaaaaaaaannnnnnnn!" Steph wined, crawling up onto the granite counter top to search the pantries. "Come help me." Logan obeyed as Colin and Finn searched the bottom cabinets. Logan came up behind Stephanie as she ransacked the pantries. "They don't have any cheese puffs," she pouted. Logan could practically picture her jutting out her cotton candy pink glossed lips. Steph let out and aggravated sigh. "There's nothing good here." Logan grunted in response. Steph teetered on her feet, still standing on top of the counter. She turned her head and smiley cheekily at him. "You'll catch me if I fall, right?" Logan smirked evilly, reached up to where Steph was standing, and pulled her down. She let out a high-pitched squeal as Logan swung her over his shoulder so he was fireman carrying her. "Looooggaaaannn," she wined again, "put me down!" She giggled madly and Logan spun around in circles while holding her. _

_Colin stuck his head up and glared at them. "Shhh, you guys, you're going to get us caught!" _

_ "Oh, I'd say it's a little too late for that, Mr. McCrea." Four heads shot over to the entrance of the kitchen to where the headmaster stood, dressed in a robe, pajama bottoms, and burgundy slippers that matched his robe. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked MAD. Logan stared at the man with wide eyes—the man who now held his future in his hands. He instantly sobered and wished that he was anywhere but here, he wished that he was in any situation than the one he was in now. _

December 15th, 1999

He watched the pacing path his father was creating on the maroon rug with a blank mind. He was sitting in one of his father's posture-correcting, antique chair, where—like a child—he sat listening to his father scold him for his recent indiscretions. He listen to his father talk about how he was an embarrassment, a disappointment, how his future had been so bright before he went and screwed it up by getting expelled from his boarding school. It took all of Logan's strength not to let his face twitch up in a smirk. He couldn't help but feel this surge of pleasure at making his dad angry, at making his dad's face crimson, and make him stress over him. It gratified him in a way that he knew was unhealthy, but he couldn't help but enjoy the power he had over a man who used to make him cower in fear. Mitchum's furious face—which used to give him nightmares—was nothing more than a tool to gain control over Logan's behavior. Logan liked being the one in control now. The over-whelming need to smile cracked his resolve and he felt his lips twitch upwards. He covered his hand over his mouth, to disguise his delight, but his smiling eyes gave him away. Mitchum looked at him incredulously. "Are you _smiling_?"

Logan quickly returned to his somber façade and shook his head, "No, Sir." Despite his best efforts, Logan knew that Mitchum could see right through him and could detect his smugness.

Mitchum furrowed his brows and looked Logan in the eye, like he was trying to decipher what was going on in his mind. "You've got to shape up, boy, or you can kiss Yale goodbye." Logan noticeably rolled his eyes at Mitchum's statement— Logan didn't care about Yale. Mitchum noticed his apathetic posture and glared at his son. "No Yale, no trust fund."

Logan narrowed his eyes at his father, mimicking his glare. "Fine," he spat, getting up out of the uncomfortable chair, "Are we done here?"

Mitchum nodded. "You're going to St. Augustine after the winter break—maybe they'll be able to control you."

"Okay," Logan smirked, knowing that that probably wouldn't be the case. He slipped out of his father's office and whipped out his cell phone, dialing a familiar number.

"Hey, man," Colin's voice greeted on the other side of the phone line, Colin was at home, too—having also been expelled with Steph and Finn. "So, where is he sending you?"

Logan sighed as he walked down the hall towards his own room. " St. Augustine."

"Hm, I haven't had the pleasure of defiling that school, yet, now's as good a time as ever I guess.

Logan's grin widened. "How are you going to manage arranging that with your dad?"

"My dad could care less where I go as long as it's a boarding school and I'm out of his hair. Steph and Finn's parents are the same way… I expect that if you continue allowing us delinquents soil your good name, your dad will start feeling the same way."

Logan barked a laugh as he entered his room and shut the door behind him. It was chilly in there—probably because no one had occupied it in month—but it looked the same otherwise. He shuttered at the bleakness that the room possessed, everything seemed to be in hues of grey. He walked over to his full-sized bed and sat down on the plaid, boyish comforter. It seemed like forever ago that he had been here, since he had been home… and he realized that it no longer felt like home—it seemed more like a prison now. "Yeah," Logan agreed into the phone, "I hope so, because I don't think I would stay here for anything."

Colin chuckled. "Well, I'll pass along the school information to the others, talk to you later, man."

"M'kay, bye," Logan said, distracted by his plain surroundings. He pressed the 'end' button on his phone and threw it to the side; it bounced slightly on the bed and then settled. Logan stood up and walked over to the balcony that protruded out from his bedroom. It was cold outside—natural, because it was December—but the evening air and the high altitude didn't help.

The coldness stung his face and he rubbed his hands together to keep warm. His eyes involuntarily traveled across the courtyard, to the house next door, and a few stories up. He was looking at _her_ and the coldness now stung his heart. The drapes were drawn, but he could tell that the lights weren't on—signaling that she wasn't in there. He leaned against the railing and stared at her window… hoping that she'd suddenly appear. He hadn't forgotten her, he had sent her letters during the first few months that he was gone, but she'd never returned them, she had never given any indication that she had even received them. He had thought about calling her, but he couldn't face rejection over the phone.

He tore his gaze away from her window and decided that he had to talk to her and he had to see her. He just wished his heart didn't feel like it was beating in his throat. He walked back into his room and retrieved his suitcase that the servants had brought up to his room. He plopped it on his bed and unzipped a secondary compartment. He fingered around for an object until he found it and pulled it out. Finn had gotten him a silver flask for Christmas before Logan left. Logan had previously filled it with booze—traveling in your father's private jet erased pesky customs—incase the plane ride with his dad had been unbearable. Fortunately, Logan's dad didn't say a word to him until they got to his office. So, now Logan had a flask full of hard liquor—perfect for taking the edge off difficult reunions. He unscrewed the metal lid and took a long swig. He winced as the beverage burned its way down his esophagus. He hoped it was enough to calm him down slightly.

Downstairs, he quietly exited through the back door and ran around the house until he reached the side courtyard that his family shared with the Haydens. Vegetation that had been blossoming when he was last here were now dead from the cold and the snow. His feet crunched against the dry grass, which had previously been a luscious green. He found it ironic that both of their families spent so much money manicuring their yards at other times during the year, but during the winter, the state of the garden mirrored how everything in their house felt—dead.

Logan looked around, cautiously—making sure that Mitchum hadn't followed him—before running up to the Hayden's porch to ring the doorbell. Before he got the chance to press the button—signaling his presence—the door swung open, revealing no one other that Lorelai Hayden. Logan stepped back—surprised—he had been expecting the maid. "H-hello, Mrs. Hayden," Logan stuttered—partly from the angry look on Lorelai's face, partly from the cold, and partly from the alcohol he had consumed quickly.

Lorelai pursed her lips—sourly—and crossed her arms over her chest. Her stance was very defensive. "That was fast, how long have you been home—three hours?"

Logan blinked at her, not believing how she was treating him. Lorelai had always liked him, because of his friendship with Rory and her own friendship with his parents. Then it hit him—she knew. He realized that Rory must have told her—they never kept secrets from each other. "Can I speak to Rory, please?" Logan asked, quietly. Lorelai narrowed her eyes at him. "Please, just for five minutes?"

Lorelai shook her head and sighed. "I think that it would be best for everyone involved if you stay away from my daughter."

Logan bit his lip, trying to come up with a good reason for why he should be allowed to talk to her daughter, but he couldn't. "Did she get my letters?" he asked, weakly.

"Yes, stay away from my daughter," she said sternly, her fingers digging into the side of the door.

Logan was getting frustrated. This wasn't his fault. Rory had gotten his letters, and had been the one who cut off all contact. Logan had made an effort. He hadn't asked to be sent away to boarding school, to be sent away from her. "Is that what Rory wants, or is that what you wants?"

"It's what we both want, it's for the best Logan, you've screwed up enough already."

Logan gritted his teeth and prepared to respond, but he felt a large hand clamp on his shoulder. He turned around and looked into the calm eyes of his father, who was frowning. "Sorry about this, Lorelai," Mitchum said, not tearing his eyes away from Logan. "I should have known better than to let him out of my sight."

Logan looked over to Lorelai, who seemed to have relaxed because of the arrival of reinforcements. "Thank you, Mitchum." Lorelai closed the door and disappeared into her house.

Mitchum pulled on Logan's shoulder and led him away from the Hayden's house, back to their own. "You need to stay away from that poor girl; you've done enough damage, already."

Logan was screaming in his head. Why did everyone see him as this person who was going to use Rory and throw her out like a used condom? Why was it that she was the one who needed protection? They were the same age! This was such an unjust, double-standard which he did nothing to warrant such treatment—unless you counted his many conquests at his boarding school, but no one here knew about them… and he was being treated like a playboy before he did anything with anyone else. What did they base this assumption—that he was going to hurt her—on? Was it his own father's behavior towards women, his grandfathers? Didn't they know that because he had witnessed the effects it had had on his mother that he swore never to treat anyone he loved like that? Maybe he wasn't _in _love with Rory Hayden like he had thought he was—in his naïve state—but he still cared about her, she was still his oldest friend. Now, it seemed he didn't even have her friendship. That night had screwed so many things up… and none of it was directly his fault. Why wasn't his parents telling Rory to stay away from him? She was the was one who cut off all contact, she was the one who didn't want to talk to him. Right now, she was the one hurting him.

After Logan got back to the house, he extracted himself from his dad's grasp, and stormed upstairs to his room. "You'll thank me later," Mitchum called. Logan ignored him and continued on his path. He reached his room and slammed the door after him. He was so angry. He walked over to his balcony again—unable to handle the trapped feeling of being in his room. He continued to stare at her window, trying to devise a way to get into contact with her. An approaching car tore him out of his thoughts. His head whipped to the street where a town car was pulling up in front of the Hayden house.

He saw Rory get out of the car, giddily—still dressed in her Chilton uniform even though it was already 5:45. Another figure followed her out of the car— Logan recognized him as his former peer, Tristan Dugrey. Logan wondered what Rory was doing with him since she had always loathed him. Realization crept over his mind as he watched their body language. She was leaning against him and he was touching her hand. They couldn't keep their eyes off each other. When they made it to Rory's front door, they turned to each other and Tristan stroked her cheek. Logan could see it even from the awkward way he was watching. Then all hell broke loose inside of Logan when Tristan leaned in to kiss her. It wasn't passionate, it was a goodbye kiss, but Logan's insides couldn't stop crumbling. He had to look away, but he couldn't make himself stop. Finally, Rory entered her house and Tristan returned to his chauffeured town car, driving away.

Logan went back inside and leaned against a nearby wall. He slid down until he was slumped on the floor. He cradled his head in his hands, and breathed heavily. He recognized the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy stirring inside of him. He rubbed his eyes and groaned at regret. Regret of his night with Rory, regret of getting caught, regret of boarding school, and regret of the past few months with random girls. He understood now why everyone was so set on protecting Rory from him—it was because although she was the same age, she sure as hell acted younger. She didn't want sex, she wanted to be courted, she wanted a high school relationship with giggles and handholding—something he knew he was unable to give her even if he stayed. He didn't want that, although he wanted her.

He grew frustrated with himself; he didn't understand why he didn't want to be that guy. Seeing her, she seemed exactly the same—gangly, pure, little Rory Gilmore. He was too messed up for her. He stood up, grabbed the lamp off his desk, and threw it across the room, shattering it into pieces. He breathed. He felt better. He felt recomposed. Sighing, he returned to the balcony and stared into Rory's bedroom. She was in there, and he could see her, she was changing out of her Chilton uniform. Just because he couldn't be with her, didn't mean that he couldn't watch her… right?

**Author's Note: REVIEWS, REVIEWS, REVIEWS!!!! I can't stress this enough. The more I get, the faster I'll update. Oh, just so you know, I only have about four more chapters planned… then I'm stuck. I need your help; it's your mission to give me ideas… I have some generic ones… but that's about it…. Next chapter is Rory's POV. **

**Some things to ponder/previews… **

**Why didn't Rory reply to ** **Logan****'s letters? **

**Does one of ** **Logan****'s friends like him more than a friend? **

**What happens when a girl from the sticks arrives at Chilton? **

**Does Rory have sex with Tristan? **

**Do any of Rory's friends know about her night with ** **Logan****, does Tristan? **

**How will Rory and Logan meet again? **

**Some of these are spoilers… some of them are just things to think about… because I've already revealed them… sorta… REVIEWS!!!! **


	6. It Stings When It's Nobody's Fault

**Author's Note: Last freshman year chapter… then it jumps to senior year… I promise. Thank you guys so much for the constructive feedback—there were lots of it this time around… that's the kind of reviews that I like. Some of you were asking for some Trory moments… some were dreading it… some of you guys will be happy with this chapter.**

**:P**

**Oh, and I want to thank Allie for her freakishly long review full of ideas… I'm going to try and incorporate some of them into the story… maybe not exactly the way she said it… because I already know how Rory and Logan are going to see each other again—that may be the only thing I know—but she definitely helped me.**

**Chapter title is a lyric from a John Mayer song called, "Split Screen Sadness."**

**Chapter 6**

**It Stings When It's Nobody's Fault**

Rory

December 15th, 1999

She was crouching in the bushes; her knees were getting soiled in the dirt, and it was cold outside. She shivered because she had already put her winter jacket in her locker when Paris had kidnapped her to spy on some new student. Now, she was hiding from student officials in only her school sweater—she didn't even have her blazer today, she hadn't speculated the possibility of a stake out. She groaned audibly to vocalize her displeasure to Paris.

Paris snapped her head over to Rory and glared. "Shut up, they'll here you."

Rory pouted. "Paris, it's freezing out here."

"It's not that bad," Paris shrugged, focusing back on the window in front of them, waiting for Francie to deliver the file they desired.

Rory rolled her eyes, "You're insane."

"Someone's cranky," mused Madeline.

"Someone would just rather be sucking face with her gorgeous, man-candy boyfriend by the lockers than hiding in the bushes," Louise pointed out, suggestively, as she filed her nails. Rory blushed crimson. She wasn't one for public displays of affection—not yet. Despite her rather experience past—for her age at least—that she kept shrouded in secrecy, she really was shy and new with the whole boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. She wasn't like Tristan's previous girlfriends—she didn't hinder people's ability to access their lockers. Madeline and Louise laughed at Rory's reaction.

Paris shushed her noisy cohorts. "Shush, if you guys keep it up, I'll never get that file."

"Relax, Jacob Golos," Louise deadpanned, "we'll get your precious little file and everything will be fine."

Madeline snapped her bubble gum. "Unless we get caught." Rory and Louise glared at Madeline for trying to increase Paris' paranoia.

Paris shushed them again, distracted by the approaching redhead heading their way. "Thanks, Francie," Paris whispered, snatching the file from their accomplice.

"Whatever," Francie mumbled. She rolled her eyes and turned away from the crowd of girls, so she could conduct the morning announcements. Paris greedily started leafing through the new girl's file leaving the rest of the group in the dark.

"Well?" Rory asked as Paris stopped perusing and settled on a page.

"Shut up," Paris commanded, trying to read.

Madeline whined childishly. "Hurry up, spiders."

"AbbyMarkey," Paris announced.

"Nice stripper name," Madeline quipped.

"Formerly of Stars Hollow High School."

"Where's that?" Rory asked, oblivious to the name.

"Drive west, make a left at the haystacks, and follow the cows," Paris snapped.

"Ooh, a Dixie Chick," Louise snickered.

"Perfect attendance, 4.0 grade point average," Paris continued, lowering her voice again.

"Bugs, dirt, twigs," Madeline continued to complain.

"She's a journalism major," Paris noted, looking over to Rory.

"That means she's going to go out for the paper," Rory concluded, worrying about the girl, now, herself. She wanted to be the editor of the Franklin next year—after the current editor graduated—she didn't want this new, determined girl to mess up her chances.

"Not necessarily," Paris decided, turning back to the paper. Her eyebrows shot up as she continued, "She's got like a thousand recommendations here."

"Popular with the adults and going out for the school paper," Louise smirked, Rory could tell that Louise was already labeling the girl as goody-goody.

"Would you stop?" Paris growled, raising the register of her voice. "You don't know that she's going out for the paper!" Paris closed the file, deciding that she had had enough of AbbyMarkey for the day. She sighed. "She'll never catch up, she already missed a semester."

"You can tutor her, be like a big sister," Louise mocked.

"You're funny."

"Okay, lizard, goodbye," Louise whined, getting up from her spot and slipping away.

Paris turned to Rory for help. "Why are they letting all these extra people in? They just take up space and screw up the curve. We don't need any new kids here."

Rory shrugged and picked up the file that Paris had discarded to her side. She handed it back to Paris. "Too late."

Paris sighed. "Whatever, I'm just going to avoid this girl." She stood up to signal for Francie, "Psst," she hissed, calling for the redhead. Francie rolled her eyes and approached the window again to retrieve the file from the anal retentive, psychopath.

---

"Look what you did!" Paris shrieked, mourning the remnants of her broken project, which were scattered on the floor of the hallway.

AbbyMarkey stared at the mess in horror. "I'm so sorry, it was an accident! My locker, it slipped! I pulled too hard… is there water in that moat?" her last statement was delivered in wonder at Paris' thoroughness.

Paris left her project where it was, and headed for her classroom. "Get away from me," she mumbled to the new girl, ignoring her apologies. Poor Abbyjust stood there in the hallway, all eyes on her. Rory—despite her earlier decision not to like the girl, for competition's sake—couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had endured the wrath of Paris multiple times throughout the day as well as an unpleasant run-in with Tristan. She was having a bad first day, and no one was making it easy for her. The girl tucked her ash-blonde hair behind her ear and shifted awkwardly in her spot. She felt self-consciously with everyone staring at her. Eventually, people moved on, forgetting Paris' outburst. Abbycautiously approached Rory and looked up at her with her green-blue eyes. "Excuse me; I need Mrs. Ness, History?"

Rory grimaced, knowing the girl wasn't going to like the answer. Rory pointed in the direction of the classroom that Paris had just entered. The girl gulped and remained rooted to her spot. Rory decided to take pity on her. "It's okay, just don't look her in the eye and you'll be fine." The girl looked over at her with wide-eyes, obviously confused by the sudden warmness she was receiving. "Her bark is worse than her bite," she assured her. The girl still looked frightened. "I'm Rory."

"Taylor," the girl squeaked.

Rory smiled and headed towards the classroom, motioning for the girl to follow her, "I know."

---

"You were very mean to that poor girl," Rory argued, sitting on the edge of Tristan's bed after school—still dressed in her school uniform.

Tristan stared at her, mouth agape. "I was not," he defended. "I was just trying to welcome the new Mary." He smirked at his words, obviously proud of himself. Rory narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "What?"

"You called her Mary?"

"Yeah, but just because she is a Mary." Rory continued to glare at him. "What?"

"Did you forget that you called me Mary for four years?"

Tristan smirked deviously. "No, I didn't forget, you were a Mary, too… you still are… kinda."

Rory huffed in mock-offense. "And here I thought you called me that, because you liked me." She turned away from him, trying to hide her smile.

Tristan inched closer to her, kissed the back of her head, and rested his hands on her shoulders. Rory turned around, revealing her smile, and Tristan stroked her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "That, too," he murmured against her skin.

Rory sighed as Tristan's lips moved down her face, kissing her eyelids, and finally her lips. She ran her hands up his neck, grazing his hair with her thumbs, and then she lowered them back down slightly and traced circles on his skin. Tristan exhaled into her mouth. He leaned his forehead against hers, holding onto her torso. "Just try to be nicer to her," Rory asked him, pulling him closer.

Tristan kissed the tip of her nose, "I can't make any promises."

She ran her hand against his cheek, "Mean boy."

Tristan stood up and turned around, offering a hand to Rory, "Your mom's going to kill me if I don't get you home soon."

Rory pouted and pulled Tristan's hand, bringing him closer to her. "She's a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, my dad will be home soon."

Tristan yanked her hand, causing her to stand up. "All the more reason to get you home, your dad scares me."

Rory smiled at the new piece of information. "He scares you?"

"A lot."

"How can my dad _scare_ you?"

Tristan shrugged. "When we first started dating, he took me aside and basically threatened to castrate me if anything happened to you."

Rory frowned. "I doubt he did that."

Tristan laughed at her naivety. "Sure, now, let's hedge our bets and get you home."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Fine, but don't expect me to go quietly."

Tristan chuckled and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the room. "I wouldn't dream of it, Mar."

---

He walked her to her door—like a gentleman was supposed to do. He briefly brushed his hand against hers and squeezed her palm with his thumb and index finger. It sent shockwaves through her system—even from a simple touch. Everything with Tristan—everything they did together—was so new, so thrilling. She could hardly remember a time before they were together, before she felt like this. They made it to her porch step when she turned to him, grinning stupidly. She looked into his pale blue eyes and felt like everything she was going to say fizzled out of her mind. He just had that kind of effect on her. He smiled back at her, leaned forward, and gave her a chaste kiss. She smiled against his lips, in spite of herself, until he broke away. He smirked at her, before turning away—back to his car. "I'll call you," he promised, breaking into a run.

Rory touched her index finger to her lips, relishing the tingly feelings he left behind. Every kiss with him was like that—no matter how impassionate. She found herself constantly wanting to be by him, to be with him. She never thought she would feel this way—not again. Turning to her door, a flickering light caught her attention in the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw the curtains quickly close in a room that had been empty for months. Her stomach fluttered—contemplating the possibilities—before she dismissed the odd movement as a maid tidying up. She ran up the porch steps, eager to get inside, because she was chilly from the cold. She opened the door, allowing the warmth to flush over her icy face. Her mother, noting her arrival, rushed into the foyer to greet her. "Hey there, kid." She smiled.

"Hey, mom," she sighed, still dazed from her afternoon. She absentmindedly started to remove her powder blue scarf and matching gloves and hat.

"Soooo," Lorelai said, stretching out the syllables, "how's the boyfriend?"

Rory laughed, unbuttoning her navy blue pea coat. "The boyfriend's great, he's afraid of you and dad."

Lorelai nodded appreciably. "As it should be."

An awkward silence cloaked the room as Rory continued to rid herself of her outerwear attire. "What?" Rory asked, noticing Lorelai starring at her. Lorelai pursed her lips, frowning slightly. Her brow creased noticeably, obviously thinking hard about something. "Mom, what?" Rory asked again, worried by the silence from her usually chatty mother.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Rory raised her eyebrow, questioningly. "Yeah," she waked over to the closet to hang up her coat and turned back to her mom. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Lorelai bit her lip, delaying her response. "Logan's home."

She dropped her coat on the floor, missing the hook completely… and as she came crashing down from the natural high she gained from her afternoon with Tristan; she missed her unusually quiet mother. "Oh," she said—it was the only thing she could manage to say.

"But I think he's leaving in a few days, to a new boarding school. In fact, I'm sure of that, I talked to his dad. You won't have to deal with him, I promise." All of her words slid together as she blurted out the information.

Rory could barely process any of it. She felt sick as her past caught up with her and threatened to emerge. Her mother continued to ramble on about all the precautions she would take to ensure that Rory wouldn't even have to breathe the same air as the boy who had crushed her internally. No, she wouldn't have to see him, but she'd know he was there, so his presence would still haunt her until he got back into his limo and drove away.

"Rory?" She snapped back to reality as her name escaped her mother's lips. Her mother was looking at her with worried eyes, she was pitying her. "Are you going to be okay?"

Headlights flashed through the front door, signaling that Christopher Hayden—Rory's father, who was still oblivious to the Logan situation, and would remain that way—was home. Rory quickly forced a smile for her mother. "I'm fine; I'm just going to go upstairs to change out of this uniform." Lorelai opened her mouth to protest, but the front door swung open, gaining her attention. Rory ran upstairs to get away from everyone she could handle this alone.

---

She pulled on an oversized tee shirt that reached mid-thigh. It felt good to get out of her uniform; it felt good to get out of anything. She turned around and something in the distance caught her eye. Through her window, she could see his room, she could she his drapes quickly go back into place—she could see his shadow. She clenched her fist and stomped over to her window to shut her own curtains, forcefully. She didn't need him looking at her, it was bad enough that he was even in his room—fifty feet away from her—how dare he be in such close proximity after what he did to her! For months, they'd had zero contact, not even a measly postcard to update him on how he was doing, let alone an apology for how he treated her. He used her and felt no remorse for his actions, how was she supposed to react to that? One thing she knew was that he couldn't just come home and make it all better, she wouldn't let him.

**Author's Note: See what happens when you give me good reviews? I get inspired and I update quickly… In my last author's note, I was kind of giving you guys spoilers… but you guys had opinions about them… and I liked that! So, I'm going to give you guys some more things to ponder… these things may or may not happen… it's up to your response.**

**-Should Rory forgive Logan easily when he comes back later?**

**-Should Colin, Finn, and Steph follow Logan wherever he goes his senior year?**

**-Should I incorporate Abby's life into the story… which includes the character's of Stars Hollow… if so, should Rory visit Stars Hollow? **

**-Should Rory and Abbybe friends?**

**-Should I just ignore the Abbystory line? **

**-Should Tristan be a cheater?**

**Give me your opinions on those… and what you thought of the latest chapter. ;) REVIEW!!!!!**


	7. When I Saw Her Standing There

**Author's Note: Wow…. Thanks a million for the reviews, guys! I was shocked! Almost all of you gave me long, constructive reviews. I wasn't expecting it. But like I said to some of you, I can't use ALL of your ideas… Also, when I mentioned Taylor and Stars Hollow… I didn't mean that she would be a main character. I was thinking just one chapter… But I don't know now, lots of you just reviewed me to say you didn't like her. I don't know what I'm going to do with her now… I'll probably just keep her around as an acquaintance… I have to change her name, a reviewer informed me that there was another Taylor is Stars Hollow… and I forgot about that… So, every time I type it, I think beard-man. I'm changing the name to Abby. Also, no mater what I do with the Tristan story line, no character in this story will be perfect… or unnaturally evil. Thanks for the reviews again, I really like the help… because I only have this chapter and one more planned out… that's when I really need your help, guys. **

**Title is a Beatles' song… **

**LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!!!!**

**Chapter 7**

**When I Saw Her Standing There**

**August 22****nd****, 2002**

**Logan**

There was no pacing this time, only silence and the ticking of the clock on the wall. He sat in his usual chair—the one that hurt his back. He was slouching and was literally twiddling his thumbs, waiting for him to say something, anything. All he was doing was sitting at his desk—in silence—rubbing his temples, thinking. Logan preferred shouting—shouting showed that he had made up his mind about something. This eerie calm thing he had going on was creepy—maybe that's what his father was going for.

Outside, it was murky, overcast, threatening to rain—it meshed well with the atmosphere in Mitchum's office. Logan found himself spacing off—looking out the window. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore." Logan jumped slightly at the sudden noise. He looked at his dad, questioningly, wondering what was whirring inside his mind. "You just seem to be out of control, _six_ boarding schools; you've been kicked out of _six_ boarding schools. Do you understand how serious this is?"

Logan shrugged. "There's more boarding schools that are willing to take your money, dad."

"I know there are more boarding schools," Mitchum spat, glaring at his son, "that's not the point; the point is that _this_ isn't working."

Logan furrowed his brows and concentrated on his face—the ability to read minds would come in handy right about now. "What are you trying to say?"

Mitchum sighed, stood up, walked over to the window and looked outside. "I'm trying to say that maybe boarding school isn't the best thing for you, that being outside of my watchful eye isn't the best thing for you."

Logan's eyes grew wide, he couldn't be suggesting what he thought he was suggesting. "What is the best thing for me, then?"

Mitchum turned to his son, and let a small smirk trace over his lips. "Maybe the best thing for you is to live here… and go back to Chilton."

Logan stood up out of his chair. "No!"

Mitchum rolled his eyes and returned to his desk. "Sit down." He motioned for Logan to return to his seat.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. "No!"

"_Sit_ down," Mitchum hissed, growing impatient.

Logan, sensing that he wouldn't win this argument if he try to reason with him, obeyed. "I can't go back to Chilton, dad, there has to be another option—just give me another chance."

Mitchum shook his head. "You've had six chances Logan, you're senior year is going to be different. You'll be under my watch, you'll live under my house—under my rules. Now that Honor's at Yale, we'll have more time to devote to you—I'll make sure that your mother and grandfather adhere to that. It's time to stop messing around, and it's time to start growing up. You'll be running this company some day, and we can't afford any more embarrassments. Do you understand?"

Logan shook his head, looking off to the side. "I haven't been to school with these kids since the eighth grade, dad." He leaned forward and ran his hands over his face. He looked up at Mitchum, who was staring at him.

"You'll live; you've been to six different schools without knowing anybody… well, besides that group of miscreants trailing behind you." Logan groaned, realizing that his friends would never go for a Prep school—they probably wouldn't even be allowed to go to one. "Well, what do you expect me to do, Logan? You haven't been home since Christmas break your freshman year. You've been gallivanting around Europe like it was your playground with your school chums. I have to set some ground rules, especially since you _just_ got back for the summer—after I tried to summon you multiple times."

"So, I'm being punished for participating in a culture enriching experience?" Logan countered.

Mitchum's eyes hardened. "I picked you up in Amsterdam, Logan. I had to drag you out of a bar where you were doing body shots off a scantily clad, Dutch girl." Logan locked his jaw—he couldn't argue with that giving the compromising position his father found him in. Mitchum nodded. "Right, so here's the deal, you're going to have a curfew—ten-thirty on school nights, midnight on weekends." Logan opened his mouth to protest, but Mitchum pointed at him, threateningly—warning him to settle down. Logan shut his mouth, realizing that keeping quiet was his best friend—he was only making things worse. Mitchum continued. "You'll attend any function that your mother, grandfather, or I require you to go to." He was listing his demands on his hand. "You'll have dinner with us every Friday night, seven o'clock sharp—this is not an appearance, it's an entire event."

Logan felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket—signaling a text message. He looked up at his dad, who had his back turned to him. He whipped out his phone and glanced at the screen, it was from Colin. '_What's the deal?_'

"You will not make plans with any of your friends on Friday night, if the night wraps up early, _then_ you can do whatever you please."

Logan quickly typed in a reply, '_Chilton prep_.' He pressed the 'send' button and stuffed his phone away.

"You'll maintain your grades, you'll join the paper, and the honor society."

Logan felt his phone vibrate again. '_Meet hotel in 30_.' After Logan's dad dragged him out of Amsterdam, Colin, Finn, and Steph had followed Logan to the states—they were staying at a nearby hotel waiting for the verdict.

'_OK._'

Logan put his phone away just as Mitchum was turning back around. "And for God's sake, Logan do not even think about getting expelled from this school, or you can kiss your trust fund goodbye—understood?"

Logan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He knew he didn't have a choice in the situation, but he was hoping that there could be some kind of silver lining. "Can I have a car?"

Mitchum looked at him with weary eyes. "I _should_ make you ride the bus…"

"But?"

"But… I guess you have to get around some how," Mitchum resigned. Logan mentally cheered. "We'll go to the BMW dealership tomorrow."

"Porsche," Logan corrected.

"Porsche," Mitchum amended. Logan stood up from his chair and headed for the door. "Oh, and we have to go to some function tonight."

Logan halted and turned to his father. "_Tonight_?"

Mitchum smiled. "Better get used to it."

Logan thought about arguing, but considering he had just convinced his dad to buy him a Porsche, he decided not to push his luck. He nodded and practically ran out of the room—trying to avoid any more torture.

He immediately headed to the garage to find the family driver, Frank—he needed to get out of the house, and _fast_.

---

"_Prep_ school?" Finn cried, when Colin lead Logan to the common area of their hotel suite. "I haven't been to prep school since I was ten."

Logan plopped down on the couch next to Stephenie and covered his face with his hands. "Well, 'hello' to you too, Finn."

"Aw," Stephenie cooed, snuggling into Logan's side, resting her head on his chest, "did someone have a bad confrontation with Mr. Bad-man?"

Logan uncovered his face and smirked at his blonde friend. "'Bad' is an understatement."

"I need a drink," Finn announced, heading for the mini-bar.

Colin rolled his eyes and sat down on the plush chair across from the couch that Steph and Logan were sitting on. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. "Any chance of getting out of this?" he asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

Logan shook his head. "He was pretty set on his decision." He played with a strand of Stephanie's blonde curls.

Colin flopped his arm down on armrest of his seat and sighed. "Okay, then I guess we're going to Chilton."

Logan's jaw dropped. "Really?"

Finn walked over to the group and sat down next to Logan on the couch. He brought over four bottles of beer—holding them by their necks in between his fingers. "Of course, mate; we'd follow you to the ends of the Earth… which apparently has uniforms."

Stephanie retracted herself from Logan's grasp, retrieved her lip-gloss from her purse, and began applying it. "You're just lucky that I look great in seersucker." Logan smiled, slinging his arm over Steph's shoulder.

Colin got up from his chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He headed for one of the adjoining rooms. "I just have to make a phone call," he announced, referring to the phone call he would make to his father about his school arrangements.

Finn placed one of beer bottles on the coffee table—for Colin. He leaned forward and removed the bottle caps using the edge of the table. He two of them off to Steph and Logan, and kept one for himself. He leaned back and put his feet up on the coffee table like Colin had done minutes before. "Drink up, chums. For tonight, we will be merry."

Logan took a sip of his drink and winced. "Yeah… about that…"

---

He found himself, for the first time in years, stuffed in a suit at a stuffy party, eating various appetizers from the buffet table, and putting the ones that he didn't like—but had taken a bite out of—back. He fidgeted with his uncomfortable tie—feeling like it was gradually getting tighter and tighter. The last apple tart caught his eye, but as he was reaching out to grab it, someone to his left slapped his hand away.

"No way, you got the last shrimp puff."

Logan groaned. "Steph," he whined as she popped the desert into her mouth.

"You dragged me to this shindig, so I get first dibs on food." A water—carrying flutes of champagne on a tray—walked by, and Steph grabbed two glasses from him. She handed one off to Logan. "Drink up."

She went to bring the glass to her lips, but Logan took it out of her hands. "We can't drink here, Steph," he hissed.

Stephenie grabbed her drink back from Logan. "Look around, no one is watching us, it'll be fine." Logan looked around and noticed that no one—indeed—was watching them.

He took a sip of his own drink and surveyed the party. He hadn't missed this—the tedious, society parties his parents used to drag him to. Only now, unlike during the days of his adolescence, he was expected to mingle… and he knew that he'd be going to more of these functions now—as a senior in high school—than he had when he was in middle school. He decided he might as well use the night to get reacquainted with the high-brow members of the Hartford Elite. Looking around, he spotted a pair of legs—they belonged to a girl, but due to his dirty mind, that's where his eyes trailed first. His eyes wandered up the rest of her body—she has her back to him. She was wearing a flow-y, yellow, knee-length dress—which was half-covered by her long, brown hair. He could tell she was pretty, even though he could only see the back of her—it was a nice backside. He felt himself tuning everything—even Steph's happy chatter—as he appraised the girl's body. Due to the foggy state of his brain, it took him a few seconds to recognize her face.

It felt like someone kicked him in the chest.

Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second, before she quickly turned away, pretending like it never happened. He continued to watch her though, and he could mark the differences right away—and not just in her body. Her face maintained its elegant demeanor, but it was less round—she had lost her baby fat. Her face was angular, and it suited her better, it enhanced her beauty. She was fidgeting uncomfortably in his scrutiny—he could tell she knew he was staring at her.

He felt a soft hand close his unhinged mouth, which he didn't know was hanging open. Startled, he turns to Steph, who rolls her eyes at him. "Are you even listening to me?"

Logan shook his head, distracted. "No."

Steph took a big gulp from her champagne flute. "Oh, you're too busy thinking below your belt, like usual."

Logan ignored her, and turned back to where Rory was moments before, but she has disappeared. "Great," he murmured. He felt a tap on his shoulder—not coming from Steph's direction—causing him to turn around. He was startled again by a pair of light-blue eyes.

"Logan Huntzberger, as I live and breathe," Tristan laughed, patting him on the back. He had a strained smile plastered on his face—he and Logan never had gotten along and Logan was obviously making him uncomfortable.

Logan mimicked Tristan's façade. "Tristan, good to see you." He looked around Tristan to look at a figure, slightly hidden, Rory. She was looking away—eyes glazed, and arms wrapped around herself protectively. Her face was blanche. He felt his insides squirm involuntarily.

Tristan cleared his throat, gaining Logan's attention again. "So, who's this?"

Logan furrowed his brow, trying to figure out who he was referring to, then he remembered Steph. "Oh! I'm sorry." He placed his hand on the small of Steph's back and inched her forward. "This is my friend, Steph." She gave a little wave and a small smile, before returning her face to a disgusted scowl. Logan's mouth twitched downward, also. He remembered how much she hated being out of the limelight and he was practically ignoring her. "She's just a little hungry," he said, justifying her cranky disposition.

"Well, you guys _are_ by the buffet table," Tristan pointed out.

Logan forced a laugh. "Well, when you go three years living off nothing but boarding school food, you tend to flock to free, catered food." His smile was so strained, he felt like he was stretching out his face.

Tristan nodded as if he understood, as if he too had gone through the same thing instead of being a snotty, little prep-school kid. "Well, listen, since you're new to these functions, we're going to give you a heads up—the first rule with dealing with parties like this is to form a sub party. A bunch of us are meeting in the pool house in twenty minutes. You should come."

Logan nodded—like he was considering the offer, "We'll think about it."

Tristan patted him on the back again—making Logan cringe, "Well, if you don't come, it was nice seeing you again."

Logan watched as Tristan grabbed Rory's hand—preparing to walk away. Logan opened his mouth to say something to her, to say anything to her. "I—," he stopped short when she looked up from the ground and looked him in the eye. She gave him the saddest look he had ever seen. She vocalized so much pain and pleas for his silence in that one look that it literally shattered his heart to look at her. He closed his mouth and watched her walk away. He swallowed—hard—trying to rid himself of the unfamiliar sensations occurring inside of him. Beside him, he heard Steph clear her throat obnoxiously. "Oh, hey." He regained his composure now that _she_ was out of sight.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Steph said, hotly, "where you talking to me?"

Logan smiled at her bratty behavior. "Yes, I'm talking to you, are you done?"

"Well, I'm sorry; I thought that you usually talked to the girl you _brought_ to parties… instead of drooling all over another one. I'm quite offended."

Logan groaned. "Was I really drooling?"

"A puddle was formulating on the pretty, marble floor." She motioned to the ground.

Logan laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "We don't have to go, if you don't want to." He was referring to the infamous sub-party.

Steph shrugged. "_I_ don't want to, but _you_ do."

Logan shook his head. "Actually I don't, that guy is an ass."

Steph smiled. "You're just saying that because he had his hands all over that pretty girl."

"Oh no, it's not that." He was serious; he and Tristan had always been rivals. Being away from him had been an added bonus of boarding school.

Steph grabbed a quiche from the buffet. "You know what? I _do _want to go. I want to see who the 'real' Logan Huntzberger is." She gave him a cheeky grin, and grabbed his hand, leading him out of the room—towards the pool house outside. He followed, obediently, secretly wanting to see the girl who used to haunt his dreams years ago.

**Author's Note: Next chapter is the sub-party—in Rory's POV…. After that, I have NOTHING PLANNED! I need the kind of response I got last time. I need some reviews… as you can see, they make me work faster… but I need reviews with ideas… or your updates are NOT going to come quickly. This story takes place throughout Rory and Logan's senior year. It's going to be a long story. It's going to be slow moving… but it will be filled with drama and angst… that's what I'm aiming for. **


	8. Like Every Inch of Me Was Bruised

**Author's Note: Okay… so not as many reviews as last time… but I'm going to chalk that up to you guys just think I'm doing SUCH a wonderful job that you have nothing to critic. Seriously, though, I love your guy's input… it gives me ideas. This is the last chapter I have planned out… and although I have some ideas… everything is blank from here. :) That implies that I want some lovely reviews… telling me what to do. Some of you have already given me some really good ideas on what to do. **

**Chapter 8**

**Like Every Inch of Me Was Bruised**

Rory

She was perched on the armrest to the leather couch he was sitting on, her idiot boyfriend. The coarse material was rubbing up against her thighs—making her uncomfortable—but she didn't want to sit next to him, she was mad at him. Her ever-social boyfriend had invited the one person she had tried to avoid all evening to the one place she hoped to escape his presence—the sub party. Of course, how was Tristan to know that he had inadvertently invited the boy she had given herself to—the only boy she had given herself to—into a room where they could be the closest together they'd been since that night, many moons ago?

However, that didn't justify his actions—his ignorance. He still knew that somehow, although he didn't know the reasons, Logan had hurt her, and she didn't want him around her. How could he have forgotten her blatant distaste for the guy? She wondered, briefly, if this was Tristan's way of waving his 'prize' in Logan's face. They always had been rivals—in an unnaturally competitive sense. She also wondered if Tristan was just trying to make amends—break away from their petty, prepubescent enmity. Next to her, Tristan took a long sip from the glass of scotch he had poured himself earlier. He winced as the golden liquid burned down his throat. He leaned forward and plastered on a smile for the couple across from him. "So, Logan, how is it that you managed to avoid coming back to Hartford over the past few years to see your friends, too good for us?" Rory sighed and leaned back against the side of the couch, giving up on the idea of reconciliation for the two. Tristan had an Emily Gilmore-esc way of being passive aggressive—he never came out and said anything nasty, but it was always implied in his tone.

Logan blinked a few times, keeping his face stoic. "I've been busy," he answered, shortly.

Rory met his eyes for the first time since they had been mingling in the main party area. His gaze was palpable, she felt like he was boring into her skin with his stare. It made her uneasy in a queasy way. She immediately averted her eyes to something else, anything else. She could still feel his stare and it made her skin crawl. She had spotted him earlier in the evening, but she had done a good job at maneuvering out of his way. She had given herself previous-set instructions to be cold to Logan, to be witty and nasty at the same time—like Tristan was doing—but she found herself rendered speechless as it felt like little bombs were going off inside her chest. She wanted to get out of there, she wanted Tristan to take her home, but it seemed as if he wasn't done tormenting his old foe. "Seems like you could have at least written, made a couple of phone calls, sent a few smoke signals." Rory slumped down into the leather chair next to Tristan—meshing against his body—she decided she was going to be here for a while.

She folded her arms across her chest, protectively. "Well, there weren't many people that I really wanted to keep in contact with."

Rory looked up at him again, annoyed by his statement. It was his turn to look away, and he did so. Utilizing her moment, she took the opportunity to look at him for the first time. He was taller, more built. His jaw was more defined—he had lost all his baby fat, too. Light no longer danced in his brown eyes, playfully. He wasn't an awkward kid anymore, he was manly—or as manly as an eighteen year-old could be. He seemed older—not just in appearance, but also in how he presented himself. He appeared calmer, but maybe he was just bored. He acted disinterested in everything around him—although all the chatter outside their uncomfortable conversation was buzzing about his reappearance. His gaze returned to her, brutally snapping her out of her appraisal. She looked down, feeling her eyes brimming with tears again. She hoped no one would notice, she hoped Tristan would get over his need to show Logan up so he'd take her home, away from the past that seemed to be catching up with her. "So, how long are you staying?" Tristan asked.

Logan sighed, leaning back in his seat next to the blonde that Rory had barely noticed. She observed the body language between the two. They weren't touching, they were keeping a safe distance between each other, and he wasn't looking at her—he was _still_ looking at _her_. She wished he'd stop, she wished he'd find something else to scrutinize. "I'm staying as long as Chilton will have me," Logan revealed.

She looked back up at him, quickly, causing her body to spasm. She knocked over Tristan's drink on the coffee table. "Jesus, Ror," Tristan cursed, setting the cup upright, before the liquid spilled all over the table.

"Sorry," she mumbled, grabbing a napkin that Tristan had gotten along with his drink to try and wipe up the mess.

Logan grabbed a napkin himself and leaned forward towards the waterlogged, coffee table. "Here, let me," he offered, advancing to help. His fingers grazed Rory's, causing her to pull back like he burned her.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked, turning to her.

Rory felt bile starting to rise up in her throat and she swallowed. "I just—I don't feel very well," she lied—sorta. She wasn't about to explain to her boyfriend that the reason she felt ill was because of the close proximity she was in with her… whatever he was.

Tristan stood up, and offered his hand to help Rory up off the couch. Logan stood up as well, meeting Tristan's eye-line. "We're going to go," Tristan announced—grabbing Rory's hand and giving it a squeeze. "I guess we'll be seeing more of you."

Logan nodded. "Seems that way, doesn't it?"

Tristan laughed. "Things are always more… _interesting_ when you're around." He waved goodbye to the pair and lead Rory out of the pool house, around the regular house, and to the valet parking pickup. They waited for his car in silence, they received his car,—a navy blue BMW convertible—in silence, and they spent ten minutes in the in silence. It was dark outside and the only light provided was from various speeding cars zooming by them on the other side of the road. Rory was looking out the window, watching the white lines pass by quickly—only adding to her nausea. Once the silence became unbearable, Tristan sighed loudly. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Rory insisted, unconvincingly.

Tristan groaned, obviously realizing that he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of her so easily. "You were fine when I picked you up tonight, you were fine in the car ride there, and you were fine while we were mingling. So, I'm just trying to figure out where the evening went wrong to make you look like someone kicked a puppy."

Rory shifted in her seat, agitated that Tristan was so oblivious to things sometimes. "Why did you invite him to the sub-party? You know how I feel about him."

Tristan blinked several times and his mouth feel open slightly—like he was thinking about something. Apparently, he was more oblivious than vindictive to the situation than she had thought. "I didn't think about it." He was looking straight ahead at the road—avoiding her eyes—and his jaw was clenched like he was mad that she could possibly let him get to her, like he was mad that she cared when he was around her. To him, she supposed it looked like she still had feelings for Logan—that's why it was hard to be around him. When, in reality, it was because being around him made her involuntarily ill.

The rest of the drive was silent and very tense. Tristan just kept staring ahead of him, angrily. She wondered what was going on in his head, what he was thinking. She hoped that he wasn't mad at her for being so flustered about Logan's presence. Tristan never was one for yelling or screaming when he was mad—he always brooded quietly. Even when he was walking her up to her door, he remained quiet—with his hands stuffed into his pockets. They turned to each other when they reached her stoop, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. "So." She let out a breath of air, waiting for him to fill in the gaps.

He gave her a glum look and shrugged. "So…" He took his hands out of his pockets, leaned forward, and gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead.

He turned to walk away, but Rory grabbed his arm. "Okay, you don't get to be mad, that's what I was doing."

Tristan rolled his eyes, but turned to her anyway. He didn't like to argue—bug her, sure, but debating wasn't his forte. "I know, it's fine, I'm not mad."

Rory groaned and stamped her foot—realizing that this wasn't going to be easy. "Yes you are, and I don't know what I did wrong."

Tristan looked up at the ceiling of the porch—like he was trying to find the right words. "It's not something you did—per say—it's how you reacted."

Rory frowned. "How did I react?"

"Don't play dumb, Rory. You moped around all night ever since we ran into _him_ and I can't find a single reason why you would act that way, except…"

"Except what?" she snapped, her eyes narrowed—daring him to continue.

Tristan shrugged in frustration. "I don't know, Rory, but it's not an appropriate reaction for what he did to you." Rory's breath hitched in anticipation. "He was busy; he didn't have time for you. How would you feel if your parents sent you away from everything you knew?"

She glared at her supposed boyfriend. "Since when do you even like him?"

"I don't like him, Rory, but I think you still do." His voice became harsher with every word he uttered.

Rory shook her head. "No, Tristan, that isn't it," she said sadly.

Tristan frowned. "Then what is it?" His voice was softer, pleading for her to explain.

Many times during their relationship, mentioning Logan had gotten him a similar reaction—utter remorse. She could have explained why on many occasions, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. It was her darkest secret, which she kept locked inside of herself. And, although keeping it mad her feel like a hole was burning in her heart, she needed to keep it from him. Having him know everything wasn't necessary for her, just like she knew that she didn't know everything about his past, or present. "I know I'm overreacting, but I can't help how I feel," she lied. She drew him closer to her, wrapping her arms around his torso. He rested his chin onto of her head and chuckled. "What?" she mumbled into his chest.

"I just don't know why I jump to conclusions so easily."

"I don't know why, either."

He pulled away slightly and gave her a proper kiss goodnight, instantly warming her up. After a minute, he extracted himself from her embrace, and turned to leave. "Bye."

"Bye."

---

That night, she laid awake, trying to figure out what happened tonight. She'd lied to Tristan, felt emotions that she could have sworn she'd locked away years ago, and she had to look forward to her past rushing back into her life—outside of her control. The shadows from her panned, windowed door moved, causing her to look over to it. Standing in all his glory—at three AM no less—was the boy—man—who was the reason she was loosing so much sleep. She could only make out his outline, but she knew it was him; she could tell from his frame, from his stance. She got up out of her bed and padded over to her door. She looked into his bright, brown eyes, and stared for a few seconds. An infuriating smirk crossed over his lips, causing her to snap out of her trance. Her whole body tensed and she pulled the curtain to her door shut, sharply. She stomped back to her bed and threw the covers back on. He couldn't just come home and make everything better, she wouldn't let him.

**Author's Note: Okay, this is where you give me lots of ideas. I wanted to get this chapter up before I left for the weekend. There will be no planning or chapter update-ion until I get back on Sunday. REVIEWS!!! PS: You guys TOTALLY want to vote for this story for best story of the month on winks, don't cha? **


	9. The State I'm In

**Author's Note: Yippy, my cast gives me access to my fingers. Let us all rejoice with an update that I wrote on Sunday! All people who I'm beta-ing, if you're reading this… PM or email me about what you need me to do so I get back on task. I need a day planner or something. I promise, I'll be more organized now. **

**Chapter 9**

**The State I'm In**

Rory

Only lying there for a few seconds, her curiosity started getting the best of her. Frustrated by her dominating reporter instincts, she threw her covers off her body and padded back over to the balcony door. She flung it open and found him in the exact same spot she left him. He smiled in a goofy manner when he saw her again—as if he was completely unfazed by the door getting slammed in his face. "Hey, Ace," he greeted cheerfully.

Rory narrowed her eyes. There was something off about him—he was very different towards her than he had been earlier in the evening. He had been cordial, almost cold, but now as he invited himself into her room, he acted like he owned the place… although, he staggered slightly. In better light, she could see his eyes. His pupils were dilated to the size of quarters. He was high—on what, she didn't know, but he couldn't be drunk, his speech wasn't slurred. He made his way over to her bed and makes himself comfortable. He pats the space beside him, inviting her over. She didn't know why, but she found her feet carrying her over to him. It confused her, because she should be kicking him out—she hated him, right? But she sat with him, anyway, perhaps intrigued by what he has to say, by his presence alone? She sat down next to him, feeling uncomfortable. He instantly grabbed her hand and traced his thumb over her skin. At first, she tried to wriggle free, but his vice-grip prevented her from doing so. So, she sat there in silence for a minute—relishing in the warmth of his hand. He sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard. "Ace." He hissed out the end of her nickname. He laughed and his breath escapes, hitting her face. The strong scent of marijuana filled her nostrils, causing her to scrunch up her nose. She looked over at him to find him examining her face. "What?" he asked, clueless.

"I'm just trying to figure out how you go access to pot so soon after getting to the states."

His grin widens and he barked another gleeful laugh. "Your boyfriend gave it to me." She glared at him, which causes him to frown, slightly. "My dad owns a private jet, they don't tend to be that extensive with those searches." He turned towards her and rested his hand on the side of her face. She's surprised at the intimate gesture, but she chalked up his lack-of-giving-personal-space to the current state he was in. He traced his thumb over her cheek bone—just like he did for her hand. "How do you know what that junk smells like, anyway? Did I leave you less innocent when I left than I thought I did?"

She rolled her eyes. "I haven't had the pleasure of sampling the substance, and I don't plan on doing so anytime soon."

His thumb moved to glide across her bottom lip. "Your boyfriend smoke it?"

"Occasionally."

"How long has he been your boyfriend, exactly?"

"Off and on again for about three years."

His eyes are transfixed on her face as they talk to each other. His unfaltering stare makes her uncomfortable, but she can't seem to push him away. He was holding some kind of strange power over her—he always has, especially when they were alone. "Well, you sure don't waste any time."

"Well, you weren't here."

He ignored her statement. "I'm just trying to figure out how you faked your virginity for him, or does he know?

His question shocked her and she felt like pushing him off the bed or slapping him, but she didn't—again. She ignored his social indecency and tried to stay calm. "No, he doesn't know."

Her voice gives her façade away and he notes her discomfort through his haze. He removed his hand from her face and inches away—she only now realized how scalding his touch was as he leaves her cold. "Oh," he moaned, lying down on the bed, flat, "I've upset you." He covered his face with his hands—rubbing his red, watery eyes.

"No," she lied, unconvincingly, but he took it.

He moved his hand to her thigh—above the hem of her boxers—and moved his fingers against her smooth skin. She hissed inwardly—freezing and holding her breath. He chuckled at her and just inched higher. "Your legs are so different from when they were wrapped around me." She was as stiff as a board and her cheeks were inflamed from embarrassment and rage. He scooted up so his face was level with hers again, but his hand remained where it was. He leaned in so his mouth was on her ear, his breath making her shiver. "I'm better, you know, I'm less awkward." Her heart started beating at a rapid pace once it registered what he was talking about; she could feel his smirk against her hair. She finally moved away from him—removing his hand from her leg and all other offending appendages. He frowned and groaned loudly. She shushed him, trying to get him to be quiet—God forbid her mother walk in on them. "How come you never returned my letters?" He asked, cryptically.

She furrowed her brow. "What letters?"

He lies down on the bed again and closed his eyes. "You know, the letters I sent you when I was at boarding school—during the first few months. Why didn't you write back?" He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Your walls are breathing." He rolled over on his side—towards her—and crawls up into a ball like a sick, little kid.

"I never got any letters," she said, truthfully.

"No, that's impossible," Logan moaned, shaking his head, "you got them; Lorelai told me you did. She told me you wanted me to stay away."

His words are a product of a drugged state and Rory decided—for the moment—that they're lies. However, she couldn't keep her mind from entertaining the possibility. Logan sat back up and begun staring at her again. "What?"

"You're just the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

She rolled her eyes at his cheesy comment, pushed herself off the bed, and stood in front of him with her arms crossed. "I think it's time for you to go."

He stood up and nodded. "I think you're right."

He strolled over to the door and she feels panic rush through her when he starts walking towards the balcony. She ran after him and spotted him with his leg swung over the lip of the railing. "Wait!" she called out to him. He turned around and looked at her in confusion—balanced on his spot. "Is that safe… given your condition?"

He smirked for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Don't worry, I've had plenty of practice." And with a wink he was gone. In a haze she must have inherited from him via osmosis, she returned to her bed—her head full of questions. Mostly, she wondered why she let him stay so long.

**Author's Note: I know, short, but I wanted to get this done for you guys… there was more to the chapter… but it still hurts to type. I just assumed that a smaller chapter was better than no chapter. REVIEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! **


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